


The long way home

by marctemple



Series: The long way home [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Grief/Mourning, HOH character, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Team as Family, title and description subject to change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-22 18:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15588027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marctemple/pseuds/marctemple
Summary: Antoine Bitters family is tragically murdered at age six, leaving him to bounce from home to home in search of the perfect family, though this seems like an un-achievable task.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! so it's been a looong while since if written, so go easy on me yeah? Premise is fairly simple, and more for fun than anything else! and No, i am not proud with my title, the characterization of some characters or the description. 
> 
> BIG shout out to l [Michael](lavernius.tumblr.com) who beta read the first half of this chapter and gave me feedback! Any mistakes are my own. 
> 
> < 3 Hope you enjoy. 
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: Most of this, therapy, mourning, mental illness is based on my own experiences, it's different for everyone!

Antoine Bitters is nine when he first enters the foster system.

He can’t say he’s a fan, the first family he’s placed with couldn’t even handle him for more than two weeks, the second is the same, and so is the third. By the name he’s ten he’s already been through ten different foster families, all unable to really care for his needs. That’s what they told his caseworker at least.

Bitters caseworker is a man named David Washington, twenty-five, engaged, and one of the only people Bitters has learned to trust. There’s a level of comfortability around them. He doesn’t make Bitters talk about his past, and Bitters doesn’t ask him about the healed scars scattered across his body.

Washington already knows about his past, every gory detail in a manila envelope that sits comfortably in the back of his car, but he never asks Bitters for any additional information. He even respected it when Bitters begged him not to tell the families about his past or his legal name.

Washington is an awkward man, doesn’t know what to do when Bitters sobs after a family’s rejection, he never seems to know. That’s never stopped him from taking the boy into his arms and rubbing at his shoulders, though. He lets Bitters vent, lets him complain, lets him lament, never offers opinions or words, and that's enough.

After his fifteenth failed foster family, Washington offers to take him for a couple weeks, saying it’s part of the process-the process of finding the perfect family. Surprisingly his boss agrees.

Washington's house is unexpected. He’s never really open about his home life, having only mentioned a fiance he loved, a couple cats. Most details were kept in the dark.  
His house, yes house, had two full stories with pink paint and a trim in white. A bed of well-kept flowers and a picket fence were staged in the front yard. There was even a lawn table with three chairs and an umbrella.

The house was a surprise, especially when Bitters had expected a small apartment. A teenager greeted them, and he found that was more surprising than the house itself. He never knew Washington had a kid.

Though Bitters is quickly and awkwardly corrected, explained that it’s a confusing family tree and Eddie is his younger brother. Kinda. Washington then proceeded to offhandedly comment about never wanting kids. Babies are hard.

Eddie is nice, though a little weird to talk to. He has memory problems that differ day to day, moment to moment. In a second he’d remember everything then forget Bitters was staying with them, and freak. He’d always apologize. Bitters always accepted.

Maine was easy to talk to, probably because the guy didn’t talk at all. He communicated through grunts and occasionally sign, but for the most part, he just listened. Bitters liked him, the shared silences were comfortable. He liked it here.

It was temporary, though. It wouldn’t last.  
\- ♡ -

Considering Eddie was easy to scare on a bad day, the room offered was a spare. Entering the third week, Washington unexpectedly came in.

“Hey... buddy?” Voice light and testing. A shake of the head from Bitters, in return. “Yeah, that’s fair. Anyways,” Continuing, only to have trailed off. Washington shifts, soon sitting at the bed’s edge.

“I just got off the phone with my sister, she runs a foster home with her wife and there’s an opening. I know that moving around stresses you out, but I truly think they’re the best suited.” A small, rare, smile is offered. Waiting.

Bitters is stressed out, always, that’s normal by now. The thought of getting kicked out, again, makes his stomach turn. This is Washington giving him a handpicked home and he trusts Washington, but.

 

“We’ll go tomorrow. For now, since it's your last night with us, let's go out to eat.” Bitters agrees with a noise rather than giving a real reply.

The next morning Bitters gives his goodbyes, earning a hair ruffle from Maine ( “Why do you go by state names?” “Inside joke?” ) and a farewell hug from Eddie, who slides him his phone number ( “If you need anything you can call me.” )

During the drive, the car is hollow with radio barely filling. There’s nothing to be said by anyone, Bitters doesn’t have the energy and Wash seems to enjoy these silences. It’s comfortable.

When they get to his sisters, Carolina’s, home, Washington makes a beeline for the door. Using his free hand, he knocks twice.

Opening the door is a woman with red hair, holding a crying toddler. Bitters hates the sound.

“Well if it isn’t the amazing Agent Washington.” Her smile is large and pearly white, contagious. “Maybe you can get Etanea to calm down.” Without much of a warning, she transfers the toddler into Wash’s awkward arms.

The toddler, Etanea, stops immediately, burying her face against the man's neck. Bitters lets out a sigh of relief, taking his hands off his ears. He had always hated screaming.

Carolina’s eyes travel past Wash to the young boy, smile still present, “You must be Antoine, right?” Her voice is filled with amusement.

Bitters gives a nod, frowning in return. He doesn’t mention not going by his first name, avoiding easy points of vulnerability or, like, a reason to be hated.

“Actually Carolina, He goes by Bitters.” Washington starts, much to Bitters appreciation.

  
A nod, then beckoning them in, “Kimball is in the back, probably putting Lily to sleep.” She takes Etanea from Wash, rubbing smooth circles on her back. “Kimball!” Bitters jumps instinctively. “Company!”

Not a minute later another woman comes out. She’s fairly tall, nowhere near as tall as Maine, but coming close. Her hair’s long and black, pulled back into a messy braided-bun. “Yes, I’m here.” Voice soothing, eyes soft and calming.

“Wash is here with Bitters,” Carolina explains, setting the toddler down. “I’m going to ‘catch up’,” Bitters is able to catch the tone quickly, they’re going to discuss things, discuss him. “Do you mind taking him to his room?”

Kimball nods, lifting the suitcase off the ground, “Sure. I love you.”

“ Love your more.”

“Love you most.” Her eyes crinkle while smiling, affection clear in her voice. “Come on Bitters, I’ll show you around.”

He nods and follows her around the house, looking at the photos lining the wall. In the photographs, he recognizes Etanea and Wash. An image of Eddy with a man that looks scarily similar to Carolina, is kept in a gold frame.

Kimball catches the confused look, quickly filling in the blanks, “That’s Leonard, Carolina’s twin brother.”

Bitters lets out an ‘ah,’ that’s more of an exhale than a word. In his opinion, the supposed brother looked more like Eddie, but genetics were weird like that.

The tour continued, the woman listing off each room, then a set of rules to match.

“And... this is your room. Due to space, or lack of, you’ll have to share with another boy.” She moves towards the messy wooden door, then opens it. “John, I want you to meet Bitters. Bitters, this is John Smith, he’s your roommate.”

The boy in question was big, way too big for his age, seems to have hit his growth spurt early. “Hello, Bitters!” Standing to attention, giving a salute in a way that seems reflexive. After having found a more casual stance, “Is that... your real name?” And the question is innocent, but it still makes his throat close while his heart hurts.

“No, his first name is Antoine, but he wants to be called by his last name.” She clarifies, still smiling at Bitters. He’s thankful for her. He’s sure she’s seen it on his medical records, respects that she’s keeping it confidential.

Looking down, up and then back to his book. “Oh, okay. Well, hello Bitters. I’m John! But… you knew that. Hm.” Twitchy, but nice enough.

“I’m going to go talk to Carolina, get to know each other.” With that she’s gone, leaving the two alone together.

“It’s good to have you here, Bitters! The bed on the right is mine, the one on the left is yours. Your drawers are over there and we share a desk!” John spends another fifteen minutes talking, the conversation is very one-sided. After a long, detailed, talk about how things work and the many kids that are in the home, Wash comes in. There must be a cue because John is exiting immediately.

“Hey, Bitters. I’m going to head out, okay?” A small squeeze to his shoulder, and a piece of paper with two numbers on it. “I know Eddie already gave you his number, but I think it might help to have mine and Maines’.” Washington smiles, gives a pat on the back and leaves.

Bitters lets out a breath, one he didn’t know he was holding in. He can do this. He’ll be fine.

\- ♡ -

He gets into a fight the next day.

He didn’t mean to lash out, really.

It started when another kid, what was his name again? O'Malley. That's it. It started when he called him Antoine, long, drawn out and it sounded so _knowing_. It makes Bitters sick. Makes him angry. He punches O'Malley hard enough for the other's nose to bleed.  
O'Malley cries. Kimball sends him to his room.

Bitters is glad he didn’t start unpacking yet, he expects Washington to come in the morning.

\- ♡ -

To his surprise Washington doesn’t come in the morning, instead, Kimball knocks at his door and places breakfast on his (shared) desk. She’s silent for a moment before sitting across Bitters on Johns, now vacant, bed.

“You shouldn’t have hit O'Malley.” She pauses again, and Bitters feel anxious. He’s waiting for the woman to tell him they just can’t house someone so violent, but it never comes.

“He got in trouble too. It’s not what you think. He doesn’t know,” Bitters doesn’t like that she knows, “He did get grounded for teasing.” She rubs the back of her head, today's hairstyle is a loose ponytail, before starting up again.

“Carolina told me that you don’t like therapists. Now, I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want you to do, but I do have a friend who’s kind of a therapist? All the help none of the titles. Again, I’m not going to force you, but if you want to, it might help.” She gets up, stretches, and shoots him a smile. “Enjoy breakfast, I’ll leave you alone now. John will be here after he eats to give you a list of chores.”

Bitters just gives a nod, waiting for her to leave before starting to eat. He moves the knife to the side and tries to ignore the unsettling feeling that loomed over him.

John comes in not long after, a smile on his face and a piece of paper in his hand, “Bitters!” He greets enthusiastically, ignoring the annoyed grunt the other boy lets out. “Look! I got our chores!” ignoring the sound of protests he grabs Bitters' hands and pulls him along.

Bitters doesn’t work, and John doesn’t seem to mind. He chastises him a couple times but accepts it once Bitters holds open the trash bag for him. They spend most of the day talking, well John does. Which each conversation he learns a bit more about the older boy.

John ‘Elizabeth’ Andersmith is thirteen years old and has been with Kimball and Carolina for the majority of his life. He loves people but gets overstimulated sometimes. He passes all his classes but has a hard time reading. His mom is in jail, and his dad is missing. He considers Bitters a friend.

“You don’t have to tell me why you’re here.” He clarifies, when he finishes telling Bitters facts about his life, “Kimball told me that some things are meant to be private. That’s okay.” He hums, picking up the last piece of trash. “I heard O'Malley bullied you for going by your last name. He’s very mean. You know I can go by Smith!” He laughs, shooting Bitters a thumbs up.

Bitters let himself smile.

As the day went by Bitters did feel more comfortable around the other boy, even speaking more freely around him. “Kimball suggested I go to therapy.” He says, at random, bringing his knees into himself.

John shot him a surprised look, Bitters didn’t really talk a lot, kept most of his thoughts private and contained his responses to his facial emotions (usually neutral, or glaring) “What are you going to do?”

Bitters let out a huff of air, pulling his shoulder-length hair back with a hair thing, “I don’t like therapists.” he mumbles, “they don’t take me seriously.” He’s only seen a handful of therapists, maybe it was due to the area, but none of them were particularly good, he could tell they were ridiculing him and judging him. He just didn’t like them.

“She’d probably take you to Doc!” He said cheerfully, beginning to sweep.

Bitters frowned, sliding the dustpan slightly back, “Doc?” Either its a nickname or someone's parent had high expectations.

“His name is Frank, but everyone calls him doc! I saw him for a while when I first got here. He’s not an actual therapist -- training to be a nurse I think.” Smith explains, “It’s up to you, but he’s really nice. I think you’d like him.” He offers another smile, continuing with his chores.

At dinner he stays behind as the other kids go off on their own, some to the living room to watch tv, others to their room.

Carolina raises a brow before turning to her wife, “I’m going to start the dishes.” She kissed the other woman on the side of the mouth before exiting the room, leaving them alone.

“I..,” He took a breath “I want to see the ‘therapist’.” He made sure to make quotation signs with his fingers.

Kimball gave a genuine smile, resting a calloused hand on his shoulder, “I can make you an appointment for an in a week, if you change your mind, I’ll cancel it.”

Bitters nods, shrugging the hand off his shoulders and heading to his shared room.

\- ♡ -

In a weeks time he’s still stressed out in the home, but doesn’t change his mind about ‘therapy’, he does ask if Smith could go with him. Kimball says yes.

The car ride to the ‘office’ (which was just Docs apartment) was quick and kinda fun, the time spent listening to Kimball and Smith talk about random things, mostly stuff from school.

Once they got there Kimball led them up to the apartment, knocking four times before a short, muscular man with a large reddish-pink scar on his right side and long blond hair tied in a bun answered.

“Kimball!” He practically screamed, bringing the woman in for a hug. Once they separate he beckoned them in, “Come in, come in! Frankie is just setting things up.” He removed the apron from around his waist, moving to the kitchen isle and grabbing a plate of cookies, bending down to Smiths and Bitters height, “Cookie?”

Bitters gave a small nod, grabbing a cookie from the plate, making a face at the chocolate melted.

“Hi Donut, this is Bitters.” She introduced, “Bitters this is Franklin Delano Donut. He’s Docs boyfriend.”

Bitters make a sound of acknowledgment, quickly eating the treat before pointing at the paper towels, before letting out a small ‘please’.

Donut nods and rips off a section, handing it to him before putting the apron back on, “I heard a lot about you Bitters! Not from Kimball, she always forgets to call, but Maine told me how smart you are!” he praises, bringing out a frying pan.

Bitters was about to question why he was talking to Maine when a man, much taller and lankier than Donut, walked out with disheveled hair.

“Kimball!” The stranger greeted, wiping his hands on his pants, “Sorry for the wait, I was moving things around.” He walked over to the group, lifting his glasses to sit evenly on his nose. “Bitters right? Come with me, we can start! Kimball, you and John can stay out here.”

Bitters looked at Kimball nervously, was it too late for him to back out? Would she be mad?

Kimball squatted down, lowering her voice down, “We can leave, if you want. It’s okay if you’re uncomfortable. Do you want to go?” She asks, patient and kind.

Bitters bites the inside of his cheek, clenching his fist before relaxing them. Shaking his head he turns to Doc, “I’m ready.”

Doc smiles and leads him into a back room. The room is fairly large, the walls are pink with motivational posters covering it haphazardly. There were two chairs in the middle of the room facing each other, and a desk in the back, along with a crate with the word ‘Tools’ in front.

“So! Bitters, right? Let’s talk.” He took a seat on one of the chairs in the middle, urging Bitters to do the same. Pulling out a notebook he writes something at the top before looking at Bitters. “Have you been to therapy before?”

Bitters bites back the rude comment he could have mad (“Does this even count as therapy?”) and nods, “A couple of my old families took me before. They were subpar at best.”

Doc chuckles, continuing to write, “Subpar huh? Word of the day!” He sets the notebook down on his lap, “I’m sure Kimball explained that I’m not exactly a legal therapist, but I’ve always been told I’m a great listener, and that’s what I’m here to do! Listen! Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?” the loud enthusiasm in his voice makes Bitters scowl a bit, he’s never been a fan of loud.

“I hit another kid. He had a mean tone, I thought he knew something I didn’t want him to know. So I hit him. I got angry. ” Bitters explained hurriedly, He didn’t like telling any adults about his anger issues, they usually downplay it or act like its unneeded, in the end, Bitters just feels worse than he did at the start.

Doc wrote something down quickly, nodding along to Bitters, he picked up a book on the side of him and flipped through the pages. “Hm…” He stuck his tongue out in thought before finding the page he was looking for, “Here it is! Do you get angry often?”

He visibly tensed up, clenching his fist together, his mind racked for the right answer, one that would get him out of here quickly without Doc telling Kimball that he’s a menace.

Doc seems to catch his discomfort quickly, smiling he pushes the book off to the side leaning in, “Hey, I won’t tell anyone anything you don’t want being repeated, I promise.”

He sighed looking up, then back at Doc, “I get angry so much, but I don’t mean to.” he starts, thinking of the proper way to word it, “Some days I’m fine a-and I feel happy, but others it seems like everything makes me mad. Four days ago Smith wouldn’t stop sneezing and it made me angry. It was just sneezing.” His voice was breaking, he could tell. His chest felt smaller and his hands were shaking, he was getting worked up.

“What do you do when you’re angry?” He inquires, continuing to scribble things out.

“Nothing. At least when I first get angry I just ignore it cause I know I’m not supposed to be angry, I’m suppose to be _happy_ but I can’t be! Why can’t I be happy!” He practically screams, ignoring the tears, “I don’t know why I’m here, it’s not going to help! _Nothing_ helps!” He lets out another sob, bringing his knees to his chest and covering his face.

Doc doesn’t move from his seat, waiting for Bitters to calm down slightly before rising from his chair and dropping in front of Bitters. “Hey now,” he looks around, grabbing the box of tissues and handing it to him. “It’s okay to get angry, you don’t have to be happy all the time, no one is.” He assures, “You just need a positive outlet for your anger.”

Bitters small body shakes with each sob, hiccups pouring from his mouth. Any word he makes is lost to the cries, making him hard to understand,

“I can’t promise you’ll get better today, and I can’t promise you’ll get better tomorrow, but someday, you will get better. You just need to give it time okay?” Doc gives a gentle smile, opening his arms for the boy.

Bitters opens his eyes briefly before throwing himself in the others arms. He’s never been to big on contact, Washington is one of the exceptions, but right now all he wanted to do was hide in another person's comfort.

They stayed like that for a while, with the man rocking Bitters back and forth until Bitters felt a bit better and was able to climb back into his chair. Afterwards the session was uneventful, Doc kept to less touchy subjects, asking him how he felt about his new foster parents (“They’re fine.”) and his new roommate (“He’s loud.”)what are his interests (“I like the guitar.)” and if he’s made any friends (“Why would I? I’ll be gone soon anyway”)  
It felt like hours went by when Doc finally announced their first session was done, clapping his hands together. “I think we made real progress today Bitters, I’ll set up another appointment for next week," he pauses, "Er, if that's okay with you?” he gave a hopeful look.

He thought for a moment, he really did feel better after today, not in a major way, but even the smallest bit helped. “I think I would like that.”

“Great! I’ll set it up with Kimball!”

Bitters nodded and followed Doc out, being met with a smiling Kimball.

“I’m going to have a talk with Mrs.Kimball, Donut can you give Bitters some water?” Doc asked, pretending to catch the kiss his boyfriend blew at him.

“Of course Frankie!” He moved to turn on the faucet, filling a glass and handing it to Bitters who accepted it with thanks.

He couldn’t control the anxiety that leaped up when Doc led Kimball to the backroom.

 

\- ♡ -

The car ride was silent this time around, filled mostly with Smiths slow breathing as he slept. Kimball’s eyes kept meeting his in the rearview mirror, only making his stress worse.

“Doc and I talked,” she started, quickly correcting herself when she saw Bitters tense up, “He didn’t tell me anything you said! Just that he thinks you need an activity for when you get wired. He told me you liked music, so I was thinking, what if I got you an instrument?” She suggested, eyes shifting to look at the boy.

“I don’t think you should waste your money on me.” is his quick, direct reply.

“It’s not wasting money if it’s to help Bitters.”

“I don’t know how to play an instrument.”

“We can get you lessons.”

They go back and forth with this for a while, Kimball trying to convince Bitters that it’s okay to accept, and Bitters arguing that he doesn’t need it.

“Everyone needs an escape Bitters, and most people have them. If you escape is music then I want to help you find it, if not, it’s still great to have a past time.” She never once raised her voice, or looked annoyed, tried to keep Bitters as comfortable as possible.

“Do you have an escape?” he questioned quietly, eyeing Smith to make sure he didn’t wake up.

“I sure do,” she confirms, “I like to go fishing, and Carolina likes to go to the gym. I’m sure Washington and Smith also have their own escapes. It’s healthy, so will you please allow me to get you an instrument?” she begs, but it’s not demanding.

“I-- if you want.” He agrees, warming up at the smile she gives him.

  
\- ♡ -

The instrument they end up getting is a concert ukulele, soprano style. Which Kimball calls an amazing pick, especially since Carolina would be able to teach him.

He starts receiving lessons every day after school and after he does his chores.

Carolina is a good teacher, calm and patient, and not afraid to laugh at herself if she messes up, but never laughs at Bitters, just smiles and tells him to take it from the top. Her musical talent really is amazing, her singing, not so much. But she looks like she has so much fun that Bitters can’t bring himself to pick fun at her, just sings along as well.

For the first time, in a long while, Bitters feels at peace. He feels like he’ll be okay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is something the matter, Antoine?” the voice is honeyed, burned into the back of Bitters mind like every other detail from this night. 
> 
> What he remembers the most, is the smell of blood curling around him and filling the senses. That and the screams that rip through his families throat. 
> 
> He can’t breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a big fan of this chapter =.=
> 
> warning for descrp. Implied murder / panic attack (?)

_“Is something the matter, Antoine?” the voice is honeyed, burned into the back of Bitters mind like every other detail from this night._

What he remembers the most, is the smell of blood curling around him and filling the senses. That and the screams that rip through his families throat.

He can’t breathe.

His hands are pushed harshly to his ears in an effort to drown the noise out, though it doesn’t work. The screams slip through the cracks in his fingers and rack his brain, making thinking an impossible task.

There is no stopping the sobs spilling from his mouth, though the murderer doesn’t seem to mind, going as far to laugh about it.

_“Don’t worry sweet thing, all you have to do is wake up.”_

\- ♡ -

He wakes up in a cold sweat, with tears dripping down his face and pooling at his covers. His knuckles were rendered white with how hard he was gripping the covers, causing a small ache to pass through him.

“Bitters?” Smith whispers quietly, from the other side of the room. His voice sounds groggy, as if he just woke up. Bitters feels a pang of guilt. “Are you okay?”

He wants to say ‘yes’ or anything really that would get Smith back to bed, but all that comes out is a pitiful noise.

Smith doesn’t hesitate to jump up, grabbing something from under his bed and making his way to Bitters, “Move over.” He demands, smiling with the younger boy makes room for him.  
Sliding in he opens his book, turning it over to Bitters so he could see the first page. The little prince had been Smith's favorite book, whether it was because of the storytelling or sentimental value was beyond him.

As Smith began to read Bitters let his eyes drop, pressing his face to the others arm, taking in an inhale of scent.

This wasn’t a rare occurrence for them, ever since Bitters had initially moved in a year ago nightmares had haunted his every sleep. Everyone in the house knew, but he was only comfortable sharing these moments with his friends, brother?--brother.

Most nights were spent sharing the same bed, though rarely, on nights when none of them couple sleep, they would occupy the floor, talking about random topics. Though they were at odds at most things, it was a comfortable pattern they’ve established.

“--It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” Smiths usually overpowering voice is now lowered to a gentle whisper, causing Bitters to slowly drift in and out.

He would have been asleep by now, if everytime he closed his eyes he didn’t see the blood-soaked floor. He clenched his eyes, biting his cheek, trying to force himself to remain awake. This does not go unnoticed.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” questioned Smith, who put the book down over his lap.

He thought about it for a second, it’s not as if Smith is completely oblivious to his past, small details whispered under cotton sheets, it’s just that Bitters hates talking about his feelings.

He shook his head, attempting to push his face deeper into the other boys' shirt, though to no avail.

Smith just nodded, picking the book back up and continuing the story.

\- ♡ -

Docs small apartment had quickly become a place of comfort for Bitters.

The pink walls, white carpets and the constant smell of cookies left a warm feeling. The people who inhabited weren’t so bad either.

Donut was a fun person to be around, no matter the circumstance the whole room seemed to light up with his smile. Sometimes, when things were aggravating or the other kids picked on him too much he’d go to the Donut-Dufresne apartment and just listen to Donut talk about random absurdity at his jobs.

Doc seemed to mirror his boyfriend in a lot of ways, they were both loud (Though, due to Donuts hearing problem that was required) and both loved to cook and clean, but their personalities could differ at times. The more you knew Donut the more some of his snarkiness, and teasing personality came to play, while the more you knew Doc you really just hit a nicer center. Though he does have bouts of anger, though does his best not to direct it at others.

He’s bonded with the two enough where he’s able to go to their house and hang out, usually when the other kids were driving him mad, or it was just for a small escape.

Today was the latter.

He loves Kimball, Carolina, and Smith with all his heart, he really does even if he won’t say it out loud, but sometimes he needs to somewhere with less than six people. He would have preferred Washington's, but beggars can't be choosers.

Donut is giving him concerned glances that he tries to play off, eyes quickly averting when He meets them. If he had to guess he would assume its due to the black circles lining his eyes.

“Frankie will be home soon. I know you don’t have a session today, but I can ask him to give you one?” Donut suggests, trying to play it off as casual.

“Okay.” is all Bitters says, it might be nice to talk about it. Even if Doc isn’t qualified in the slightest.

The rest of the night is spent with Donut (loudly) talking about a man he met named Terrance, raving about how handsome and charming he was. Bitters thought it was weird at first, how open Donut was in his appreciation of other men, but now it's settled down to just be who he is. He would never cheat on Doc, and Docs never been a jealous man.

When Doc finally does get home, greeting the two with a bright smile, he’s immediately pulled to the side by Donut who breaks off into sign language.

Bitters don’t know a lot of sign, most of it picked up from Donut and Carolina, but he’s quick to recognize the sign name Donut so lovingly gave him, along with the sign for sleep.

A few more ‘words’ were said between the two before Doc clapped his hands, “You wanna go talk Bitters?” He asked, smiling when Bitters nods.

Once seated comfortably across from Doc he begins talking.  
“I keep having bad dreams.” He explains, tumbling with his hands, “About the night my parents..” trailing off, he let Doc pick up the rest for himself. “It always goes the same way, I can’t sleep anymore, and it’s affecting Smith.”

Giving a nod Doc writes a couple things down, giving time for Bitters to cool off (he still isn’t comfortable crying in front of Doc) before speaking.

“You’ve been talking about this nightmare for four weeks now Bitters, the human body and mind are very reliant on sleep. I know you doing like ‘real’ therapists, but I have a very close friend who specializes in trauma. I can bring her here, I’ll even stay in the room with you..or John, if that’ll make you more comfortable.”

Bitters wants to decline, lie and say he’s fine, just having an off month, but he’s so tired and yearns for at least one night of sleep where he’s not waking up sobbing. He nods.

“That’ll be..fine.”

“Great! I’ll discuss things with Kimball. For now, let's talk about alternative therapeutic methods!”

  
\- ♡ -

Dr. Emily Grey is an eccentric woman.

She’s fairly short, with a chubby physique and long hair, usually messy hair. She was constantly seen with a lab coat and her signature heart-shaped glasses. Bitters didn’t even know they made heart shaped prescription glasses.

Her enthusiasm was her most prominent feature, the way everything was said with a cheerful lilt.

The first session with he was anxiety-inducing, though having Smith there helped a bit. The second one went a bit easier, with Grey giving him theories on why his sleep had been so impacted.

The sessions slowly started helping, though the nightmares weren’t completely snuffed out, they were slightly rarer.

  
\- ♡ -

It wasn’t often the Church family got together, though when they did it was a spectacle to be seen.

Eddie was by the window, looking out of it. He seemed dazed and out of it, probably one of his off days. Carolina is talking to Kimball about work and how her boss won’t ease up on the new hires, and Maine. Well, Maine is talking to people Bitters had never met.

He wasn’t supposed to be awake at this hour, but he had trouble sleeping and decided to investigate the (loud) mysterious noises.

Kimball is the first person to notice him, breaking off her conversation and hurrying over him, dragging him (gently) out of the room.

“Hey, did we wake you?” It’s whispered, which Bitters is thankful for. He hates loud noises when woken up. Not an Early Bird.

Bitters shakes his head, eyes glancing at the two mysterious men.  
“Why are there so many people here?” He can’t help the annoyed tone that spikes through, though She chooses to ignore it.

“We do this every so often, cycling through whose house we go to. It is meant for adults, but Eddie tagged along, giving you sight to the entirety of the Church family..almost. Here come on.” She grabs Bitters hand loosely, giving him the chance to pull away and leading him back into the room.

“Church, Tucker, this is Bitters.” She introduces proudly.

“Oh shit, you’re the new kid.” the man, Tucker, exclaimed, earning a hit from Church. “Ow! What the fuck!” He hissed.

“Dude. you're not supposed to cuss in front of kids.” Church lectures, crossing his arms.  
“I cuss in front of Jr. all the time!”

“Dude that’s not the same! That’s your fucking kid!”  
“Hah! You just cussed!”  
“I’m allowed to!”  
“Bullshit!”  
“Fuck you!”

  
“Boys!” Carolina interrupts, making Bitters jump. “Bitters, this is my brother Leonard Church, but we just call him Church. You already have stuff in common.”

Church is a thin man, with black, messy curly hair. He wore blue framed glasses that protected his dull green eyes, and had a mole under his right eye, though his most eye-catching feature was the Monroe diamond piercing.

Bitters let his eyes wander down to the man's wheelchair, which was littered with stickers, from aliens to hearts. It was kind of endearing. His eyes s stopped at the wedding ring gracing his hand, making him slightly confused. He didn’t seem like the marriage type.

“Hey uh... Bitters. I'm Church... But you knew that so..” Church is _awkward_ far more than Carolina and Washington, he must not be the kid type.

“Smooth.” Tucker scoffs, though the big smile gracing his face makes the comment come off as joking. 

“Oh shut up.”

Tucker is a handsome man, at least to Bitters. He’s short, near Eddie's height, with ombre blue braids pulled into a ponytail. His has soft brown eyes glance lovingly at his husband face,feeling with adoration. His snake bites quickly catch Bitters eyes, and oh yeah, he’s getting those when he’s older.

“Ignore him, Church is awkward around any kid. He’s known Jr since he was a baby and still gets anxious around him.”

“He took a bite out of me and ripped off skin I think the anxiety is well earned.” Their bickering continued on, causing Bitters to roll his eyes.

Looking up at Kimball he waited till she leaned down, whispering in her ear, “I can’t sleep.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding, “You can stay up with Eddie, alright? Careful though. I think he’s having an off day.”

Bitters gives a nod, making his way towards Eddie.

“Hey, Eddie.” He greets, pulling one of the wooden chairs forward, taking a seat.

“Oh. Hi..” Bitters can see the cogs turning in his mind, the way his eyes slowly take in every feature, trying to remember the person in front of him, “Bitters.”

“You look tired.” It’s a bit direct, but he’s right. The teenagers eyes have very noticeable dark bags under them, his iris a bit red tinted as if he’s been staring at a screen for too long.

“Washington hasn’t been home in a while. Complex case,” he explains, lolling his head back before bringing it forward, in an effort to keep himself awake.

He makes an understanding sound, giving him a small pat on his leg. He’s aware of Eddie seemingly never-ending nightmares, the ones that plaque him nighty. Usually, it was Wash the coerced him to sleep, rubbing his back for what seemed like hours until he slowly passed out.

Without Wash, it’s probably been a couple nights since he’s had a good sleep.

They talk for a little bit after that, how schools doing, how therapy is going, Eddie makes offhand comments about an admirer, Bitters talks about the meetings Smith has been going to. Eventually, Eddie seemed too tired to continue the conversation, glassy eyes twitching with exhaustion.

Bitters grabs his arm, rolling his eyes and leading him to his room, laying down on the bed with him. Smith is completely passed out, drooling on his pillow. Good.

They spend a while talking in hushed tones, both voices filled with enervation. Their talks slowly drift to a more serious topic, the dreams that cage them.  
Eddie’s dreams are filled with dark rooms and the voice of his father, the sound of calm calamity. He dreams about dying, over and over again until the only thing the fills his memory is his own death.

Bitters dreams about the smell of blood, the tapping of knives and the sound of screams. He dreams about prideful monsters stuck in his own shadow, dreams about having a contoured body and a mouth filled with cotton.

They fall asleep like this, bitter memories on the tip of the tongue, feeling a moment of ease at the others company.

Neither wakes up when Maine comes in, collecting Eddie in his large arms.

\- ♡ -

Bitters doesn’t cry when he finds out Smith is leaving.

He wants to, so badly. But he doesn’t. Smith had been in foster care much longer then he had, and who was he take away the excitement of getting a (new) family?

Smith is anxious when he tells him, scared of what his reaction would be grief, anger, resentment? Though Bitters shows none of those emotions, keeping his face in a careful smile.

“I’m happy for you. I really am.” He holds in the sob threatening to leave his chest.

\- ♡ -

  
The weeks leading up to Smiths adoption are spent with the two spending every thinkable moment together.

They share a bed, spend most of the nights chatting together, even try to synch their wakeup times together. A difficult process for Bitters.

Once Saturday hit they spent the day packing. Smith kept a smile on, though Bitters could tell it was his fake one.

They didn’t speak as they folded clothes, instead of letting the music from Kimballs it hone drift in.

In an hour Smith would be in a car, traveling hours away from the small town of Chorus. How depressing.

“Before I leave, I want to give you something. Cover your eyes,” he instructed, waiting for Bitters to close his eyes before turning around.

Bitters heard the sound of ruffling, opening his eyes when Smith cleared his throat.

In front of him was a book with a worn out cover, though not just any book. In large yellow letters, he could clearly see ‘The Little Prince.’

“I can’t take that.” he’s quick to say, frowning.

“I want you to have it.” Smith insists, “It’s helped me when I got nightmares, it’ll help you. I’m too old for it anyway.”

Despite the cool town he was trying to place Bitters knew the truth. This was Smith's favorite book. The one tie to his past.

“I’m not going to take it, Smith, you’re not too old for it. Besides. it’s too nerdy for me.” he shoots Smith a small, knowing smile, making a sputtering noise when a sock gets thrown at him.

“Okay. I’ll keep it.” He whispers, before lighting up. Opening the book he only stops flipping through it when he finds what he’s looking for. He grabs the pages from the top and rips slowly, ignoring the shocked noises from Bitters.

Folding them up he slides them to the younger boy, “Don’t open these until I’m gone okay? Promise me.”

“Okay.” he presses the papers to his chest before sliding them into his pocket. “I promise.”

\- ♡ -

Mr. and Mr. Ortez were a very odd couple. They seemed like complete polar opposites, minus the fact they both insisted on being called weird nicknames.

Caboose, the taller of the two, was all smile and sunshine, his upbeat attitude practically radiated off of him.

He has short, shaggy, black hair that’s pulled back with a headband and bright blue eyes. His face is soft along the edges, harboring small cuts, unlike his hands that look ripped up.

Locus was fairly tall, though not nearly the same height as his husband. His attitude was more professional, only really breaking the serious front when Caboose makes a joke.

He has long, beautiful silk-like hair that’s pulled into a tight ponytail, minus the few strands gracing his face. He has a large “X” shaped scar that cuts over his eyes, giving a fog like an appearance.

The thing that stands out the most is the matching sweatshirts that read “I’m with handsome” that and the friendship bracelets.

“Caboose. It’s great to see you.” Carolina leans in and gives him a strong hug, lifting him off the ground before setting him down. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been good!” he gleams, flapping his hands, “Me and Sam have been working on a new project! I cut my hands up a bit, working with steel, but Sarge is going to come over tomorrow and help me fix whatever issues frying the logic board.”

“Good to hear it. Smith, are you ready?”

Smith twiddles with his hands, giving a look to Bitters.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” a

Bitters is the only one who goes outside with them, grateful to his foster moms. He helped them load the car, then stood awkwardly to the side. Watching as Locus enters the passenger seat.

He didn’t notice the man walking up to him but did jump at the sudden contact, meeting Cabooses eyes.

“It’s hard losing a best friend. But just cause he’s leaving doesn’t mean it’s goodbye. Me and Sam will bring him over as often as we can. Promise.” The smile on his face is more assuring than his words, he can't help but nod.

Caboose gives a friendly pat before standing up and making his way to the driver's seat, starting the engine.

He ignores the jealousy the fills his chest when their faces break out into smiles.

He can’t ignore the tears though.

\- ♡ -

 

Bitters can’t sleep that night, a deep emptiness feels his chest when he looks at the now vacant bed.  The room seems shockingly silent without Smiths rather loud snoring, causing Bitters to fall in his own thoughts. 

 

His knees were drawn tightly to his chest, his eyes cast to the other bed. He’d be getting a new bunkmate tomorrow, said Kimball who gave him lingering looks of  _ pity.  _

 

Letting out a soft sigh he moves from his bed, clicking the light on and reaching into his pocket, grabbing the pages. 

 

He hadn’t opened them yet, a lull of sadness brushed over him whenever he did. It felt like a finalization to Smiths leave. 

 

Slowly opening the pages he smoothes them out over the pages, letting his eyes drift over every worn word. 

 

He hadn’t noticed the tears sliding down from his face until they hit the paper, causing it to go damp. 

 

He felt a little better. A  _ little _ . He would still cry, would still miss the constant presence. But he feels less empty with the now damp reminder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a big fan of this chapter. It's very face paced for me, rushed and seems to be lacking something. I hate the end most of all, but it was really fun to write Church and Tuckers / Caboose and Locus relationship! 
> 
> Also i always loved the little prince and wanted to add it in in some way! here's the pages Bitters read 
> 
> https://freelancerbf.tumblr.com/private/177117630038/tumblr_pdn3pjY3BM1xb0puf
> 
> I might go back and re-write this chapter...1 day. Next Chapter is a time skip!
> 
> My tumblr is @ freelancerbf

**Author's Note:**

> hi! hope you enjoyed, if not, oh well! To clear some things up!  
> Edited 8/12/18 to fix bitters age.
> 
>  
> 
> Carolina and Kimball are marred! Eddy is epsilon and is also related to Carolina, Church and Epsilon are different people in this, and Washington was adopted into the Church family. 
> 
> Etanea ( not a good name, but a name ) and Lily are Eta and Iota  
> O'malley is Omega (of course)  
> and Bitters is trans! Any questions or criticisms ? my blog is freelancerbf.tumblr.com 
> 
> the design i used for donut belongs to fandomescapades
> 
> might edit this tomorrow, i was sweepy when posted it.


End file.
